Highest Definition

I recently saw The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012), by Peter Jackson, who shot the movie at 48 frames per second rather than the typical 24.

High Definition. Crystal Clear.  Focus so sharp, it cuts.

It seems that more and more, the public is wanting to view movies, television, and video in the highest definition possible.

We gain a lot by viewing things in HD: vibrancy, clarity, beauty.

But there is something in me that is bothered by this idea that cleaner and clearer is automatically better.

I want to know what it was like before eyeglasses were invented, when you had to do the best you could with the eyes you had.  How much ambiguity was in the world back then?

Our eyes are limited in the kind of information they can provide us.

But isn't that what makes us human? Limitations?

I question how far we should go to make our art transcend the human body it originates from.

When I go to a movie, I want to be enveloped in the story like I was there with the characters when it was shot.  I want to have a shared experience with the film.

If the film looks better than how I see things in the real world, there is a disconnect.

Is it possible for a picture to be too perfect, too slick, overproduced?

When I paint, sometimes I want to hide the brushstrokes.  To make it smooth.  Then I realize that if I don't want to see brushstrokes, I shouldn't be painting with a brush.

Our hands can only do so much with the tools they are given. 

But isn't that what makes us human?

Limitations?

Painter as Warrior

As a follow-up to my previous post, "Painter as Jedi", I wanted to present a scene from one of my favorite movies, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) by director Ang Lee.

In the scene, Shu Lien, a veteran warrior and master of the martial arts, suspects a young aristocrat, Jen, of being the thief who recently stole the Green Destiny, a sword of great power.  In order to work out the tricky situation, Shu Lien visits Jen to befriend her and eventually uncover her devious actions.  When she arrives at Jen's private quarters, Jen is practicing her calligraphy; she offers to write Shu Lien's name, "just for fun" (the translated subtitles differ slightly from the dubbed dialogue; I prefer the subtitled translation).

Jen's proficiency with the sweeping motion of brush on paper all but reveals her secret identity as the martial arts thief and swordsman that Shu Lien had fought with earlier.  When Shu Lien remarks that calligraphy and swordfighting require similar movements and control, Jen of course plays dumb.

To me, the movie is all about discipline and self-control (represented by Li Mu Bai and Shu Lien) coming into conflict with unbridled power (Jen).  SPOILER: In the end, Shu Lien regrets dedicating her life to duty and honor as she was never able to fulfill her love for Li Mu Bai.  And Jen finally realizes that wielding power willy-nilly can have dire consequences when her careless actions inadvertently lead to Li Mu Bai's death.

Painting, fighting, calligraphy, fencing, storytelling: all require balance.  Power and innate talent is not enough; you must also have the knowledge of when and how to use it. 

Painter as Jedi

In a passage from one of the kitschy “Expanded Universe” Star Wars novels that I love to read, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker addresses his new pupils during their first lesson.  Even though Luke is talking about Jedi mind techniques and lightsaber dueling, I felt a kinship with what he was saying.  I’ve replaced “Jedi” with “painter” to make the metaphor that much more apparent:

          “I have brought you here to study and to learn, but I myself am still learning.  Every living thing must continue to learn until it dies.  Those who cease to learn, die that much sooner.
          “Perhaps it was misleading when I called this an ‘academy’ for [painters].  Though I will teach you everything I know, I don’t want you merely to listen to me lecture.
          “Your training will be a landscape of self-discovery.  Learn new things and share what you have learned with others.  I will call this place a praxeum.  This word, made up of ancient roots…distills the concepts of learning combined with action.  Our praxeum, then, is a place for the learning of action.  A [painter] is aware, but he does not waste time in mindless contemplation.  When action is required, a [painter] acts.”[i]

I have two thoughts on this quote: 1) even though Luke is clearly a master in his field, he is humble and wise enough to recognize that learning lasts a lifetime, and 2) the role of the peaceful warrior is very similar to that of an artist.  I didn’t realize how resonant the last two lines of the quote would be for painters until I switched out the words.

Cover art for Dark Apprentice

We don’t paint for the hell of it.
Our brushes are our swords.
We swing them, and they cut.
We hold them close, and they are quiet.
They can be honest blades.
We will act when action is required.
We will know when.

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[i] Kevin J. Anderson, Dark Apprentice (New York: Bantam Books, 1994), 68-69.